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- Э. Л. Джеймс
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- Пятьдесят оттенков серого
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- Стр. 164/797
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“
Surely
,
I
should
be
saying
that
to
you
,
”
he
murmurs
.
He
finishes
playing
and
puts
his
hands
on
his
legs
.
I
notice
now
that
he
’
s
wearing
PJ
pants
.
He
runs
his
fingers
through
his
hair
and
stands
.
His
pants
hang
from
his
hips
,
in
that
way
…
oh
my
.
My
mouth
goes
dry
as
he
casually
strolls
around
the
piano
toward
me
.
He
has
broad
shoulders
,
narrow
hips
,
and
his
abdominal
muscles
ripple
as
he
walks
.
He
really
is
stunning
.
“
You
should
be
in
bed
,
”
he
admonishes
.
“
That
was
a
beautiful
piece
.
Bach
?
”
“
Transcription
by
Bach
,
but
it
’
s
originally
an
oboe
concerto
by
Alessandro
Marcello
.
”
“
It
was
exquisite
,
but
very
sad
,
such
a
melancholy
melody
.
”
His
lips
quirk
up
in
a
half
smile
.
“
Bed
,
”
he
orders
.
“
You
’
ll
be
exhausted
in
the
morning
.
”
“
I
woke
and
you
weren
’
t
there
.
”
